


dream yesterday, promise tomorrow

by bokutoma



Series: sylvix week 2019 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Pre-Time Skip, Promises, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, felix hugo fraldarius as a crybaby, i love u fe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutoma/pseuds/bokutoma
Summary: sylvain may be a lot of things, but he’s not the king of person to break a promise to someone who matterschildhood // promises // reunion





	dream yesterday, promise tomorrow

Sylvain may be a lot of things, but he’s not the kind of person to break a promise to someone who matters.

Which is, of course, why he’s swearing to Ailell and back, pants unbuttoned and shirt half on as he sprints to the third floor of the monastery, hoping to the Goddess no school officials catch him. Rhea isn’t in her quarters, which means she’s in the cathedral, and he fervently prays that Seteth is with her. Hanneman can’t catch him and Manuela hardly cares; most of the knights that know him well enough for the idea of being caught to be alarming are gone, sent on various missions. That leaves just one person who could possibly stall him.

He’s just managed to get his pants properly secured and his shirt something resembling buttoned when he rounds the corner and crashes headlong into someone.

“_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_,” he mutters, and at least he’s the only one who fell on impact, because he can spend _way_ less time apologizing.

“Sylvain,” the person says, voice perfectly even, and he is doomed.

Byleth stands before him, arms crossed and eyebrow vaguely raised.

“Professor!” he cries out, covering up his embarrassment and nerves with charm because that’s all he knows how to do. “Sorry about that, I’ll just be on my way.”

He’s babbling now, eyeing the way up the stairs as subtly as he can, desperate to not be late. Really, he hadn’t meant to get so far behind schedule, except that the girl he had been with last night wanted a round two, and who was he to say no?

The answer to that, had he been successful, would be “a reasonable person with a healthy amount of self-esteem.”

Instead, he’s five fingers deep into self-loathing, and he doesn’t know how to say no to the things that are killing him.

Byleth holds up their hand, commanding and reticent until the end, and he shuts up, because he may be stupid, but there’s only one thing between him and what he wants, and he’ll do what it takes to circumvent lengthier delays.

“Be more discreet,” they say, pushing the passageway open. “And tell Felix I said hi, and that he was right.”

He has neither the time nor the mental fortitude to dive into that one, so he nods his thanks and scrambled up the steps as his professor shuts the passageway behind him, only a barely visible seam of light left as evidence.

Sylvain has time now, thank the Goddess, and he takes it to fix the buttons of his shirt so they’re properly aligned. There’s absolutely no way he won’t be mercilessly torn apart for the obvious cause of his disheveled appearance.

He’s on the third floor now, and he can’t hear any signs of movement, which means that someone is almost certainly here.

When he slips around the corner, Felix is waiting, beautifully framed by Rhea’s garden with a terrible scowl on his face, and Sylvain has never been more glad to see anyone.

“You’re late,” his best friend says, tone cold and cutting as only he can be.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I ran into the professor on my way here. They said you’re right, by the way, whatever that means.”

If anything, Felix’s lip curls further at that. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, if you really were with another girl, I suppose I should be impressed that you had enough restraint to attend to our meeting at all.”

Ah, so that’s what the professor meant.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Felix.” Sylvain isn’t one for solemn oaths; if he was born for it, that had been carefully ruined by every one of his many suitors, every bruise from his brother’s hand. Still, this is one he’ll adhere to until his dying breath.

It’s a tradition that came about when they were young, Felix a tiny tagalong with emotions too big for his body. Sylvain, nine and already too gangly for his limbs, had fallen out of a tree. He had been low to begin with, so all he had had to contend with were a few scrapes and bruises, but the worry in Felix’s eyes had been palpable.

“Promise me,” he had said, amber eyes wide and serious. “We live together until we die together.”

Every year, they renew this vow, even though neither would ever dream of breaking it. It’s become a tradition, the best way Sylvain has found to revel in the comfort of his best friend.

It’s today, and Sylvain feels like he’ll burst if he doesn’t get the chance to speak.

“Good,” Felix says, and it’s the closest Sylvain regularly comes to seeing him smile. “I wouldn’t have forgiven you.”

Here in the garden, air sweet and thick with fragrant blossoms and history both ancient and recent, he takes Felix’s hand, warm within his own, and means it with all his heart when he says, “Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> strap in lads, it’s sylvix week
> 
> follow me on twitter @kingblaiddyd


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